"I don't know that," returned Isabel, who was all in a quiver. "He may have _heard_ us, if he didn't see us--the sound of our skirts as we rushed off, in this perfect silence." And so it appeared. For, as we stood there peeping out, we saw that the newcomer stopped short and seemed to be listening attentively. "Good gracious?" I ejaculated, "he has heard us. There is something rather uncanny about him. I dare say he has extra-acute eyes and ears-- delicate people often have--for we made next to no sound. But we must stay here for the present," I continued, rather pleased, in spite of our alarm, that we were forced into remaining where we were, as with care it was quite possible to watch the newcomer. "Do be quiet," said Isabel in a whisper, speaking, for once, almost crossly. "Your voice will be heard if you don't take care." I subsided meekly enough, for I felt conscious that in my excitement I had not been very cautious. So we stood there like two naughty children, as indeed in a sense we were, furtively watching the poor man's movements. It was touching to see him. He walked and stooped with difficulty, but his heart was evidently in his work as he carefully removed any dead flowers and leaves and raised here and there a drooping tulip in need of support, standing still now and then, while he drew back a few paces, to enjoy apparently the whole beautiful effect of the lovely colours. "I dare say," I thought to myself, for I did not venture to speak at all,--"I dare say he is an artist as well as an amateur gardener. If so, he is not so much to be pitied after all, though he must long sometimes to pull down that hideous house!" He went on quietly attending to the borders for some little time, having apparently reassured himself as to the sounds he had heard. And at last, when he had moved on a little, Isabel touched my arm, whispering-- "Don't you think we might go now?" I agreed, and we were on the point of stealing away, when another little incident revived our curiosity, and made us stop short. We heard a whistle; in response to it the cripple raised himself from bending over a flower-bed and listened. The whistle was repeated, and then Mr Grey called out-- "Here I am--waiting for you." "Your brother wants you for a moment," was the reply, in a man's voice undoubtedly, though assuredly not that of a servant. "He won't keep us long, and then we can--" But the rest of the sentence was inaudible. The cripple moved in the direction of the voice, and as he turned the corner of the house, the tap of his crutches growing fainter, we heard a cheery voice greeting him and the sound of laughter, to our amazement, reached our ears. "There now!" I exclaimed. "Perhaps you'll be convinced at last, Isabel! There _is_ a fifth person living in that house." "Wait till we are outside to talk about it, for goodness' sake," said Isabel. "I never knew any one so impulsive as you are, Regina."